An early start saw us board the DLR for the pain free trip to London City Airport. This marked the first time for Mirinda. If we do have our few months in France, she’ll be doing it regularly so it’s a chance to discover how smooth it is. And I can report that she was only cranky with one person the whole trip.
Being stupidly early, we settled on seats and had a coffee while we waited.
At London City airport there are a load of these signs:
When we landed, as she was the last person off the plane, Mirinda asked the pilot what it meant. He told her that because city airport is in a built up area with lots of traffic, it is a polite way of saying don’t rev your engines up. Makes sense.
It was at the end of what Mirinda described as the best and easiest plane trip she’s ever been on. I have to say it was definitely better than most. About a third full, two rows of two seats, only took just over an hour. It was excellent.
From the airport it was a very quick taxi ride to the hotel in Piazza Fontana, just around the corner (literally) from the cathedral. Sadly we’re only here for two nights but we plan to make the most of it…and we did. As soon as we’d dropped our stuff off and Mirinda had managed to send some emails and stuff (she is at work, after all) we went out, looking for food and a watch.
And we found a great lunch place rather quickly. My beer and caprese and Mirinda’s Rossini and ham and melon were ideal for such a hot day. We also had a front row seat for possibly the worst busker ever. This chap had earplugs in with some sort of music playing in his head and he stood and played his air guitar expecting people to give him money. The problem was his air guitar playing was pretty dire. And when he lifted his shirt up…well, that was it really.
Having eaten and rested up, amazed that only that morning we’d woken up in Canary Wharf and were now lunching in Milan, we headed off in search of a watch for Mirinda. And she found the thinnest ever (it’s in the Guiness Book of Records, apparently) and was finally able to stop asking me what the time is in French.
Then we were off to the Galleria Vittorio Emmanuele II, an amazing shopping arcade of indescribable beauty. So indescribable in fact that I took a few photos instead.
From here we wandered over to the Piazza Duomo for a sneak preview of the outside of the cathedral – we’ll be returning later on – before going back to the hotel so Mirinda could do some work.
After an elongated rest (for me) we headed out for dinner. However, before we went I had a shower. I have to say that this hotel has one of the best showers I have ever had in a hotel. Okay, I admit that it would be improved if it was a walk-in shower but the bath is quite low and the shower head is fabulous. The temperature and water pressure are both perfect. It was so perfect that I had two.
Then, and only then, we went out for dinner.
We dined at Motta (1928) in the Galleria Vittorio Emmanuele II and went a bit carboholic I’m afraid but, what the hell, we’re in Italy.
After a very filling dinner, we headed back to the Duomo and the road that leads straight to our hotel. We cast a final glance towards the Galleria before heading upstairs to bed. What a marvellous day.